My Brother
by Kaira101
Summary: Dragon Age: Origins based. With every battle comes death, and with every war comes sacrifice. Alistair finds himself mourning a brother, when it was supposed to have been his death all along. Rated T for mention of blood and violence.


My Brother

A Dragon Age: Origins Fan Fiction

Alistair should be grateful; he should be joining his boisterous subjects in their grand celebration, roaring with laughter, a flagon of ale in his grip. He should be smiling, content with the temporary absence of the darkspawn, leisurely greeting his soldiers and thanking them for the strength they provided in the final battle.

And yet he sat alone in the medical wing, hunched over like a defeated animal, still covered in the gore of the latest battle. Ahead of him lay a figure on a bed, peppered with the same tainted blood and filth Alistair was cloaked in. His chest was motionless and his skin was cold and grey. The delicate tattoos in which labeled him as Dalish remained ever vibrant against the pale skin. His hair—now filthy with the blood of the enemy—clung to his colorless cheeks, his pointed ears exposed. The elf had been Alistair's best friend—a brother, truthfully. A bother he had always wanted, had and cherished for months, before dying, without warning or wanting. Alistair found himself driving his fingernails into the ball of his fist.

He had _told _the elf what he had wanted to do! Alistair swore he would do it, that he would be the one to kill the blasted dragon! Tûrin had been silent, his elven features undistinguishable. He did not object! Alistair's fate was clear, and Tûrin's survival was possible. So why?

Alistair ran his hands through his hair, his fingers like claws dragging through his skull, eyes stinging and throat tightening.

_It was Alistair's fault! He was stupid-unaware-cowardly! All it had taken was one swipe of the dragon's tail, and Alistair had been sent tumbling along with Zevran and Sten. His head collided into the stone wall, his vision exploding into dots of white and black. He shouldn't have simply laid there, for there had been an opening in the dragon's defenses. Tûrin saw it, brandishing his sword and charging at the beast, wasting not a moment. His sword cut deep along the archdemon's scaly throat. The beast screamed as it collapsed in a mighty heap. The elf raised his weapon, point aimed at the dragon's eye. He paused and turned to Alistair. At this point, the king heard himself scream._

_Tûrin's lips curled into a smile and whispered a word in elvish, eyes filled with an overwhelming sadness and sobering determination. He brought the sword down._

A mixture of a sob and a choke found its way to Alistair's mouth, and he covered his face with his hands. He shoulders shook as he ground his teeth together, allowing the tears to flow freely and shamelessly. There would be not a soul brave enough to disturb their mourning king tonight.

Tûrin planned to kill the archdemon all along, Alistair thought. He expected no less from the proud Dalish rouge. So why did his death haunt him?

"Why?" His lips formed the words, but the voice did not seem to belong to him, the hoarse, raspy sound echoing in the empty chamber. "Why didn't you let me do it? You knew I wanted to relieve myself from the burdens of being king. You knew I should have been the one!" Another choking sob bounced off the stone walls. His voice grew loud and angry as he stood up abruptly, pacing around the body. "You were my brother! Your death is more devastating than Duncan's could ever be, and _you knew that! _But you did it anyway! You didn't-didn't even-even think..." Alistair could not speak anymore, his throat so painfully tight. He bit into his knuckles, squeezing his eyes shut as the tears kept flowing.

He could barely breathe, sweat beading down his face as the anger faded back into despair. Alistair's head rested on Tûrin's breastplate, his tears mixing with the elf's dry blood. His voice was back to a whisper.

"You were my brother."

**Author's Note: I'm quite certain you already realized this while reading, but I'll say it for the sake of those who couldn't grasp my terrible writing skills. Tûrin is my male Dalish elf from Dragon Age: Origins. It is true: I decided he would embrace his death once he defeated the archdemon, mostly because I couldn't imagine allowing Alistair to die. Throughout my time playing the game, Tûrin and Alistair developed a wonderful relationship. I honestly choked up when Alistair spoke about Tûrin at his funeral with the most heartbreaking sorrow cast on his features. I could not pass up the opportunity to write a tiny tragic moment with one king mourning his "brother". Perhaps I sound too mushy at this moment; if I do, I sincerely apologize. I ask you to review. Please tell me what you did or didn't like about this work. I appreciate any criticism. Thank you!**


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